


The Tears of a Guilty King

by Somecallmemichelle



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Broken Heart, Canon Compliant, Gen, Guilt, Hope, Hurt, King - Freeform, Love, Mercy - Freeform, Murder, Needs, Pacifist Frisk, Redemption, Revenge, Souls, The End, Trepidation, blame, exp, subjects
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 03:06:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9364844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somecallmemichelle/pseuds/Somecallmemichelle
Summary: Because as the seventh fallen child approaches (the eight if he counted his child), he can't help but feel Guilt. Guilt over all the parents who lost daughters and sons to him. And he hates himself for the promise of revenge done over in grief. Because he lost all he cared about, and he doesn't think he's worthy of mercy.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dragonsire21](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonsire21/gifts).



Ol’ King FluffyBuns had been fine with the rampant destruction of six human souls, though that didn’t necessarily mean he was glad to do so. Every children killed, every human destroyed...Asgore couldn’t help but think of all the human parents that would never see their sons or daughters again, their souls to be kept by him, in a blatant attempt to destroy the barrier.

  
But it was such, promise made in grief and rage, promise to his people, or, well, monsters, that kept it in his path. And Asgore did what he had to do. Because he had to. Not because he could...though, really, none could compare themselves to him in power, in all of the Underground. Specially not humans, even if their souls shined strong...but because, between the war, and precision of his blows, the reinvention of his people, the adoration for the good old King, that ruled with benevolence...amongst all those things, he needed to do it.   
  
A king lives to serve his subjects, not the other way around, and Asgore had never really been a big fan of ruling over in fear. He carried with him the hopes, dreams, and expectations of every monster in the underground. And every time one of them fell, or turned to ash, he felt guilty. Guilty for not being able to provide them with the cold air of the outside. The blame was sorely on his shoulders. Squarely falling upon them, as the war had been commandeered by him. Not started, humans feared monsters, and attacked them, but he had fought back with all he had had. - And at that Asgore sighed.   
  
Though physically he was only a few years older, he didn’t really age, his soul, so destructible, so perishable, unlike a human’s, felt old. As if it had been dragged around all those years, and gathered dust, hate, contempt, and every bad feeling it could harvest, and those were finally weighting it down.

  


Stuck in promises of revenge, willing to change things, harvester of the hope of his people, Asgore couldn’t help but to defeat every fallen. He remembered how every one of them had had the same look on their face. Shock, mixed with pain, as they fell victim to him. Not every one of them had gone peacefully...some had attacked his subjects, such were humans, but every one of them had been grieved over by Asgore.

  


That rage and hate filled promise had cost him everything...more so than his son’s life, more so than the love his wife felt for him, ,more so than innocent (and not so innocent) lives. It had cost him more than he could possibly have ever had. 

  
And as he came to the last child...tales of their innocence and pacific nature, coming to his ears, he couldn’t help it. He didn’t come to them. He waited. Trying to distract himself with flowers, the golden petals that reminded him so much of the sun.

  


Some might have wondered why he didn’t end things sooner, and released every subject, every monster, everyone, why he didn’t give them a chance to be free. Free at last! Oh how technology for the humans seemed to have evolved. How wonderful it’d be to see the clear open night sky, to travel more than the two or three regions he walked through. Snowdin, the Hotlands...the Core, not the ruins, obviously, he avoided that area religiously, but every other one. They seemed so small, such tiny little dots when compared to the entire world out there.

  


Over the children he had had so many a fight with his former love, love that eventually had turned towards resentment. It was a way to fill her grief, he was well aware of that. While he had cried out to the heavens (or the painted ceilings that passed for heavens), that he would avenge them, Toriel simply looked for another child, another kid.   
  
In a day, they had lost everything they cared about. And, shoulders sagging down, hunched over the plants of his garden, his beard touching the soft hem of the grass, which like fabric drenched over the entirety of the room, he remembered it. Asriel...his son, his laughter, the fallen child, Chara...how they carried in their eyes the look of pain, and how he had urged to protect them.   
  
And yet, he had been unable to protect them, neither one of the two had survived the trials life had put them through. And he had roared at the tall as a cathedral ceilings, asking why, and how, and if he truly deserved the pain life had brought him. And as a twisted joke he had regained his long life, to truly suffer endlessly.

  
Now Asgore thought he probably deserved it. None should have to endure the death of their children, but, really, none, as well, should have the lack of empathy necessary to cause EXP and LOVE, the levels of violence...well he had felt sick when he attacked those humans. He had deemed them innocent, and yet, so stubborn, so willing to leave.

  
At the cost of his life. Something he wouldn’t honestly mind giving. But he was bound, bound by that promise he had made. And though he gave them the proper care, of their empty bodies, there really wasn’t much he could do. He felt sick with every crunch, every swing, and he truly didn’t think he deserved any mercy.   
  
But, as the seventh fallen child approached, not counting the first one, his child, he couldn’t help but feel dread. He knew what he had to do. The same thing he had done every single time. He pretended not to see them on the Ruins, but, just as he had been unable to save Asriel and Chara, she was unable to save them. Stubborn, willing to leave, those were all characteristics shared by them.   
  
Now the dawn of a new era drew near...had humanity evolved ever since? Had their compassion increased? He knew they had evolved in other ways, created new weapons...what did that mean for them?

  


And yet, Asgore felt guilt, not trepidation, not anxiety, not anything he ought to be feeling. He was this close to getting out of the Underground. But he felt as if death itself was near. He didn’t know…   
  
The child approached, and either way, everything would be over soon.   
  
But how to feel about it?

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I was just discussing Undertale, with DragonSire21, and this idea popped into my head. Really, Papyrus and Sans was what we talked about. But when discussing the costs on Sans, and of his awareness of a Genocide Route, I wondered about Asgore. 
> 
> Thank you for reading.


End file.
